


don't ask me that

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Come Marking, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry heads home for the weekend to stay safe during his heat. He requests (insists?) that Zayn drive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't ask me that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheekysstyles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekysstyles/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELANIE- this is the third zarry a/b/o i've started and not finished for you over the last two years. 
> 
> this one has some /content/, so i'll post it and gift it to you. (and by 'content' i mean 'porn.')
> 
> yes, you read that right. this has a distinctly 'unfinished' feel to it. that said, i was inspired by the prompt: highway rest stop sex and that happens so. :) 
> 
> i know zarry isn't a thing anyone likes anymore but i promised and i've been trying so hard. this is tmh era, okay? 
> 
> warnings: let's see..... there's misogyny and racism and dubious consent. also, this a/b/o universe is different from most in that alphas are feared/oppressed/constrained etc.

Harry’s curls are glossy and his face is a little flushed when he joins the circle. He smells like soap and a heavy dab of the spicy cologne he favors. Zayn doesn’t understand why he always showers before shows- he’s dripping with sweat when they leave the stage, the fresh scent replaced with something darker, richer, and much more dangerous for Zayn’s libido. 

He places his hand in the middle of the circle and glances around with his eyebrows raised, like he’d been the one waiting for them and not the other way around. 

Louis apologizes, sending him a soft, fond smile, and Niall and Liam giggle. 

Zayn’s the last to comply, and only does so when Harry meets his gaze. 

That’s when Zayn catches the first whiff of it- sweet and a little yeasty, like bread dough, just beginning to rise. 

He takes a deeper breath as the other boys begin to chant their little get-to-work tune and, yes, he hadn’t imagined it. Harry smells like the first couple hours of heat. 

As they break apart and line up to go on, Zayn catches Harry’s sleeve. “You okay?” he asks. 

Harry doesn’t answer him. Instead, he winks. 

Standing this close, the scent is more intense. Perhaps more than a couple hours in, then. They should cancel the show. Harry needs to head home, or at least to a secure hotel room.

After spending these last few years together, Zayn knows that this gets Harry going, that he likes the thrill of pushing his seclusion to the very last minute. Zayn assumes he must enjoy the lingering looks he’ll get from the rare Alpha he passes heading home. 

Harry’s a risk taker and Zayn hates it. He suspects that Harry, a kind-hearted liberal in favor of de-regulating Alphas, underestimates the Alpha instinct to _pounce_ and _knot_. 

Zayn knows the depth of that instinct, though. Fuck, does he know. 

He can’t _say_ anything, though, for fear he’ll out himself. His bandmates don’t know his gender, and neither does management or the label. Zayn’s not on the national registry and he doesn’t see a specialist for the gender neutralizing shots. 

That’s fine. It’s never been a problem and before One Direction, he couldn’t imagine that it would ever become one. Now, though, with Harry around, Harry who loves to play with fire, Zayn worries. He worries for them both. 

~

Harry’s out of breath, panting into Zayn’s ear, as he inserts himself between Zayn and Liam, an arm around each of their shoulders. 

“Hey.” His voice is rough, almost a groan. 

Zayn turns away and takes a shallow breath. His head spins anyway. 

Harry is close and sweaty and happy and _fertile._

Zayn has done his research. He’s had to, to protect himself. He knows that a heat takes twelve to twenty-four hours to develop. He wonders how long Harry’s been keeping this to himself and how much longer he’ll wait to say anything. 

He wonders, but he can’t risk sticking around to find out. 

“I’m going back to the hotel,” he says. 

Fuck. His voice sounds as rough as Harry’s. But Harry often sounds fucked out after a show; Zayn does not. 

Liam leans around Harry to raise an eyebrow. “Need some water, mate?” 

Zayn shakes his head. 

Louis pops his head out of his dressing room, bare chested, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Anyone want to go out tonight?” 

Zayn frowns and croaks out a, “No,” at the same time as Liam chirps, “Yeah.” 

“Harry?” Louis asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

Zayn glances at Harry, eyes wide. He had better say _no._ He can’t be so utterly careless as to put himself at risk of rape. He’s a cocky prick, but he’s not stupid. 

Still, he’s hesitating to answer and Zayn wants to kick him in his probably already wet ass. 

“Actually,” he says, drawing out the word. All three of them are watching him closely now. “I need to get home. It’s, like, my time, or whatever. I was hoping one of you would drive me.” 

He turns his head to look at Zayn and Zayn’s mouth drops open. 

Their faces are close enough that Zayn can feel Harry’s hot breath and see his pupils dilating. He smells so fucking good. 

Zayn _knows_ Harry can’t smell him back. He’s taken every possible precaution. And, yet, watching Harry’s tongue dart to lick his lips, Zayn wonders if it’s all been in vain. 

“You should have one of the security staff do it,” Niall says from behind them. Which, of course, Harry _should._

 _“_ I’d feel safer with one of you. I trust you guys more than anyone else,” Harry’s voice has gone from rough to soft. Pleading. His eyes are still on Zayn. 

And Zayn makes sense as a chauffeur is the thing. Zayn’s the best driver of the lot of them and he’s already said he doesn’t want to go out. He knows Harry’s hometown and is comfortable making his way around the area at night. He’s perceptive and cautious around strangers. 

But he’s also a fucking _Alpha_ and so probably the most dangerous person Harry knows, at the moment. 

“I can do it,” Niall says.

Thank god. 

“No,” Harry says, leaning into Zayn. “I think Zayn should. He knows the area.” 

 _No,_ Zayn thinks, _Zayn shouldn’t. Zayn’s already fucking hard in his pants and Harry's scent is only going to get stronger._

“That’s settled, then,” Louis says. “Zayn’ll do it.” 

Harry sighs. 

“You’ll be alright for the weekend?” Liam asks. “You want us to call your mom?” 

None of them are even questioning Harry’s choice. Of course, they aren’t. That’s how it’s been since the beginning. Harry, the happy-go-lucky hero of an Omega, so brave for choosing this life as a public person, so beautiful and desirable and _sexy_ to Betas and other Omegas and Alphas alike, Harry always gets his way. 

When he doesn’t, all he has to do is stick his lip out and pout and within moments everyone relents. Zayn’s usually as guilty of giving in as anyone else.  Maybe more guilty because he's the only that can smell Harry's enticing fucking scent. 

But not tonight. Tonight giving in would be _dangerous_. Literally. 

“No, I'm not feeling up to kicking any Alpha ass,” Zayn says. 

“You won’t have to kick anyone’s ass,” Liam says. “He just wants you to drive him.” 

“What if we run into an Alpha? Better if he had you.” Liam’s tough, big muscles, quick temper, a much better fighter than Zayn. Hell, even little Louis is scrappier than he is. 

“No,” Harry says. He’s nuzzling into Zayn’s neck. “I want Zayn to take me.” 

Harry’s mouth is open against Zayn’s skin. Harry’s _scenting_ him and his dick is now _twitching_ in his pants. Zayn can barely believe that not one of the other boys sees it, but they don't seem to and he's grateful. 

“If Harry feels safest with you,” Niall says. “I think you should go. Like, he’s the one with the instincts here. In anatomy, they always said you should trust the Omega instincts. They, like, _know_ things about people intuitively.” 

“That’s not been scientifically proven,” Zayn says, because it hasn’t. He suspects it is true. For other Omegas. Harry clearly has a death wish. Or rather, a breeding wish. 

“Come on, Zayn,” Harry whispers. “It’ll be fun. We can listen to Beyonce.” 

As if this might be enough to lure Zayn into a car with him, hours before his heat fully sets in, ass already wet and scent already thick. _Yeah_ , Zayn thinks, _Beyonce_. _So fun._  

“Why are you so reluctant to do this for him? It’s just a couple hours out of your night and it’ll keep Harry safe and happy. He’s an Omega, Zayn. Think of how inconvenient his life is every damn day.” 

Louis thinks of himself as something of an Omega advocate. As if Omegas need more advocates. _Fuck._

Zayn wonders if this is it, if this is the moment he has to tell them, has to see his friends recoil from him. He knows Harry will pretend not care, but that'll he'll have to stay as far away as possible afterwards. And Liam will insist that he get himself registered. Louis might be good about, might try to take up his part. But _fuck._ Zayn does not want things to change. 

“Zaynie,” Harry murmurs. He knows how much that nickname grates on Zayn’s nerves. “You don’t like me, do you? You’re an old hold out, aren’t you? You think my heats are gross, that I’m, like, a slut or something, don’t you?” 

Harry’s pulled away from him. His eyes are wide and his gaze is zeroed in on Zayn’s face. 

Suddenly, they are the only two people in the hallway. 

Zayn licks his lips and folds his hands across his chest. With his fingers digging into his arms, he can’t reach out and grab Harry. 

“No. Fuck, no. I just want you to be safe. And I think you’d be safer with someone else.” 

His voice hasn’t gotten any smoother since they walked off stage. In fact, it’s more cracked, more broken as he continues to plead with Harry. 

“You need to let one of the others help you. I’m not the right person for this. I think you know that.” 

Harry steps back into his space. “I think you know that you are exactly the right person for this.” 

He tilts his head and Zayn’s eyes catch on his throat. It’s flushed, smooth and bare and waiting for a bite. 

He has no idea how vulnerable he is. But Zayn knows. He knows exactly how an Alpha will react to Harry in this state. 

He closes his eyes and murmurs. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll take you.” 

Harry launches himself into Zayn’s arms, nuzzling Zayn’s cheek. 

Niall pats him on the back and all the other people around them, watching, reappear. 

“You’re a good man,” Liam says and Zayn doesn’t think he’s got it quite right. 

~

Harry sleeps the first hour of the trip. He tucks his legs up against his chest, chin resting on his knees. Zayn thinks he looks small and peaceful. 

The look is deceptive. His cock is pressing against the seam of his jeans and he smells more potently every minute. 

Zayn’s been hard since before they climbed into the car together. He thought he might be able to calm himself, but the bread is in the oven, so to speak. The richness of Harry’s scent suggests that he’s close to being the in the thick of his heat. 

Harry shifts, the seatbelt groaning and his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Eyes still closed, he whispers. “I really have to piss.” 

Zayn glances around the car they’d been given. It’s a rental and it’s bare aside from the water bottles he’d grabbed on his way out of the dressing room. One of them is half empty and he sets it in Harry’s lap. 

“Use this,” he suggests. 

He’s not sure how his body will react to Harry pulling his dick out, but he’s not willing to risk letting Harry out at a rest stop. It’s unlikely that they’d run into an Alpha as people like Zayn make up less than four percent of the British population, but if they did, Zayn’s sure Harry’d be attacked. Because, even as he opens up his eyes and squirms in his seat, Zayn is intensely aware that he’s slick and hard, desperate for a knot. 

For Zayn’s knot. 

Zayn takes a shaky breath and, he can’t help it, reaches down to adjust himself. 

He’s aware of Harry’s gaze following his hand into his lap. 

“I want out, to a toilet,” Harry whispers. “If you come with me, I’ll be fine. You won’t let anyone get me.” 

Zayn turns his head to look straight at Harry. It’s a mistake. His lips are pink and his eyes pleading. Zayn always wants him, but he’s never felt the _need_ shoot through him like it does in that moment. His fingers twitch, the desire to grab him zipping through them. 

“I need to get out,” Harry presses. “You can’t focus on the road.” 

Harry knows. Of course, he does. Zayn can’t imagine the even the strongest colognes and suppressants working under these conditions. Zayn’s been cooped up in a tiny space with an Omega in heat, an Omega he _cares_ about in heat, for over an hour. 

Zayn groans. “Fuck, Harry. I’m sorry. I told you that I shouldn’t take you.” 

“I wanted you to,” Harry replies. Zayn swallows. Maybe Harry’d already known. “If I just get off once, that’ll take the edge off. You’ll be able to focus better. I promise. You can come in with me, keep others away.” 

Zayn’s fingers tighten on the wheel. The exit is close, less than a mile up the road. Beside him, Harry is panting and palming himself. Like, _fuck._

The little bubble of rage that’s been building in his chest bursts. “You _knew_ I was an Alpha, an unregistered, unmedicated Alpha, and you still asked me to get in a car with you _during your heat_. Jesus Christ, I _never_ believed the shit they said about you, but this looks extremely…” He searches for the right word. He doesn’t want to use a slur.  He knows from experience how those can sting. But Harry’s almost _asking_ for it, making a choice like this. 

“Desperate?” Harry supplies. That’s not what Zayn was going to say. It’s not where his mind had been at all. But glancing out the corner of his eye, he thinks it’s probably accurate. Harry’s hand has stilled, but it continues to rest on his crotch. 

Zayn turns off the highway without using his blinker. Thank fuck, it’s the middle of the night and they haven’t seen another car in miles. He can only hope that the petrol station will be equally empty. 

“I am _desperate_ , Zayn,” Harry confirms. “You smell so good. You always smell good, but especially this close to a heat. And I know you. I know you’ll take care of me.” 

Zayn growls. He doesn’t think he’s ever made so rough a noise before and he’s not sure he could repeat it if he tried. “I’m _dangerous_. Haven’t you read your Alpha safety literature? That’s why the count us and keep track of us and medicate us, so we don’t _fucking_ hurt vulnerable Omegas like you.” 

He pulls into the lot and cuts the engine. There are three other cars here and Zayn watches through the window as a man pays for a bag of crisps at the counter. 

Harry’s quiet and Zayn wants to look at him, but he’s afraid he’ll lose control. 

“The literature _I_ read, said that Omegas and Alphas were _made_ for each other. That’s why we smell so good, our bodies fit together.” 

“You make rape sound so romantic.” 

Harry blows out a breath. That’s not. He shouldn’t have said that. 

“It wouldn’t be rape,” Harry whispers, after a moment. 

“Like it rough, do you?” Zayn murmurs back, voice so low, he’s not sure Harry will hear. 

Harry reaches for the door. “Yeah, I do. I also like _you_.” 

Zayn closes his eyes. He likes Harry, too. He does. But he’s not sure how much of that’s because Harry has lovely green eyes, a clever mind, and a sharp tongue, and how much of it is because he’s an Omega and _everyone_ likes Omegas. _Everyone._

Harry opens the door. Zayn expects the rush of fresh air to provide a little relief, but instead a gust of wind pushes Harry’s scent at him in a powerful rush of air. His head spins and he gasps, dick twitching. 

“I’ll go into the bathroom. You come in after me and stand nearby until I’m finished, okay. Then, we’ll get back on the road and in less than an hour we’ll be at my mom’s and you can drop me off and be on your way.” 

Zayn swallows and looks at the ceiling of the car. He tries not to think about how desperately he needs a wank of his own. 

“Okay?” Harry asks. 

Zayn nods. He has no idea how Harry’s being so clear-headed. He’d always heard that Omega’s in heat were wild animals, as desperate for release as Alphas during a rut, equally needy, but less aggressive. 

Hell, right now, he feels as though his control is wearing thinner than Harry’s own and he’s not the one whose body is overrun by hormones. 

Harry slams the car door and walks into the little shop. Zayn allows himself to watch him, then. 

Harry’s not usually graceful. His gait always a little choppy and awkward like he’s not sure where his arms and legs end. Not so, today. Today, his body flows, limbs moving smoothly, seemingly relaxed and well-controlled. He nods at the man behind the counter and gestures toward the toilet. 

The man barely looks up from his phone. Thank god, not an Alpha, then. An Alpha wouldn’t be able to help doing a double, perhaps even a triple, take. 

Zayn knows from experience, of course. He can’t take his own eyes off Harry, his heart jumping nervously in his chest when Harry disappears into the toilet. 

Pocketing his keys, Zayn exits the car and following Harry into the shop. 

~

Zayn makes his way to the back, pretending to be very interested in the various drinks options behind the glass. It’s a tiny place, only four short aisles between him and the front counter. He feels the other man’s eyes on him. 

It’s always like this in shops, even now that many people recognize Zayn. He can usually feel the uneasiness of shopkeepers gazes and it has yet to make him feel anything but nauseous. It’d be worse if they knew he was an Alpha, which is one of the reasons why he’s never registered. The police have been known to lock up dark-skinned Alphas for petty offenses, or sometimes, for no reason at all. 

Or, maybe, Zayn thinks, as Harry’s scent wafts, thick and sweet, out past the door of the toilet and up into his nose and through his body, maybe they have very good reason. He certainly doesn’t trust himself right now. 

Even though he’s standing still, arms at his sides, he’s sweating. Not moving, not opening up that door and pressing into Harry, is taking a great deal of physical effort. He’s acutely aware of every noise Harry’s making. It’s as though his sense of hearing has sharpened. 

The sink turns on and then off. Harry grunts at the same times as his zipper clicks down. Then, his body falls, hard, against the wall. 

Zayn thinks about pulling out his phone, for a distraction, but even that small act feels like it would take energy and focus he does not have. 

He worries he’s not going to be able to drive Harry the rest of the way, at least not without finding his own release. 

Harry moans. The sound rings loudly in Zayn’s ears and he turns to see if the man at the counter has heard. He doesn’t seem to have, as he’s still pretending to be entranced by his phone, while keeping Zayn in his line of sight. 

“Zayn,” Harry’s voice bleeds through the walls. 

Still, the other man does not look up from his phone. 

Zayn’s read something about this, he thinks, maybe in a novel. Some people have romantic notions about Alpha/Omega mating, that couples in these pairings can feel each other’s feelings and sense each other’s needs in superhuman ways. As far as Zayn knows, that’s never been scientifically proven. 

However, these days gender scientists spend most of their energy attempting to discover ways to keep Alphas in check, rather than studying actual Alpha/Omega relations. 

“Zayn, please.” 

It’s not his usual whine, the sweet pouty tone he uses on the other boys to have his way. No, this whine is more demanding, darker. Supposedly, Omegas in heat are docile and submissive, allowing their (usually Beta) partners to take the lead and rough them up a bit. This is one reason why Alphas are so dangerous to them- they’re aggressive, not known for taking no for an answer, unable to control their instincts or take their partner’s needs into consideration. 

Countless Omegas have complained of an unwanted pregnancy due to Alpha mates who haven’t stopped or used protection in the way they’d agreed upon beforehand. These Alphas always end up in prison. 

Zayn has no interest in joining them, so he grits his teeth and ignores Harry. 

Except that Harry is a persistent asshole. 

“Zayn, come in. I need your help.” His voice is rough now, like it’d been just after the concert, and it tugs at Zayn, pulling him by the heat building in his belly. 

Zayn finds himself moving toward the toilet, knocking at the door. 

“Are you finished?” He speaks the words loudly, so that the man at the counter will hear. 

“No,” Harry moans, soft and broken. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have taken this trip with you in this state,” he replies, louder still than before. 

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then shoulders the door open to steps inside. He pushes in the lock on the metal handle and then opens his eyes again. 

Harry’s is naked. A blur of pale skin and ink and that Zayn _needs_ to touch, to map, to memorize. 

Zayn steps over his black t-shirt to walk to him and kick his jeans out of the way to stand in front of him, as he leans against the dirty blue tiled wall. 

Zayn reaches to push a lock of sweaty hair out of Harry’s eyes. 

“You really want me in here?” 

Harry nods, chin up, throat bare, and chokes out, “Yeah.” 

Zayn leans forward put his nose against Harry’s neck and breath him in. He smells so fucking good, like bread in the oven, hot and almost ready for Zayn to bite into. His tongue darts out to lick at a drop of sweat. 

Harry whimpers and the noise surprises Zayn into stepping back. 

He needs to maintain control. He cares about Harry. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. 

With another shaky breath, he studies Harry. His nipples are hard and his cock juts out between them, wet at the tip. When Zayn looks down at himself, he sees that it’s left a spot of precome on his shirt. 

Both of Harry’s arms are tucked behind him and, Zayn suspects, that his fingers are in his ass, stretching it, preparing it to be fucked. 

“What do you want from me?” Zayn asks. His words are short and smooth. He sounds in control, even though he feels far from it. 

Harry’s eyes flutter shut and he moans, the same sound that pulled Zayn into the toilet with him moments ago. “I want.” He takes a breath. “Your fingers.” 

Zayn’s fists clench and unclench. Fingers he can do. Fingers he might be able to control, to hold back, to _pace._

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah.” 

Harry’s own fingers slide free and come to rest on his thighs. The tips of them shine with slick. 

“Do you want me to turn around?” Harry asks. 

Zayn meets his eyes. They’re dark, pupils so wide Zayn doesn’t see any green. Harry licks his lips and Zayn’s eyes flick downward to watch his tongue. 

He’s reluctant to look away from Harry’s face, but he thinks it'd be safe to have him turn around, so that Zayn’s focused on the bare skin of his back, or, better still, on the blue tiled wall, instead of on how open Harry is, how much Harry might want him. 

“Yeah.” 

Harry brushes their lips together, light and fast, before turning toward the wall. His hands are huge, Zayn notes, fingers splaying to cover multiple tiles at once and Zayn wonders if his own hands will provide any relief for Harry at all in comparison. 

Harry’s hair is shorter now, than it used to be. Zayn knows he dreams to have it long, past his shoulders. It’s popular style with Omegas, the fact that he’s not allowed it is a testament to just how backwards the entertainment industry is. It’s been decades since Omegas were held in any kind of contempt by the public. _No, now_ , Zayn thinks, _having it long might even endear Harry further to his hordes of fans_. 

Zayn traces a finger down Harry’s spine, relishing the way he shivers in response. 

His skin is hot, almost feverish and he’s slick and heavy scented. But he’s not begging, yet, not really, and his mind seems clear enough. Zayn wonders if his heat’ll get worse before it gets better or if, perhaps, Harry’s not as affected as others. 

He presses a kiss to Harry’s nape. Harry’s scent is rich there, and Zayn’s tempted, for a moment, to stall. He wants to lick and suck and bite a bruise in the base of his neck, see if he can make Harry whimper. 

But his hand, resting atop the curve of Harry’s ass, slips lower, down his crack and over his wet hole. His finger slips inside with a light push. 

Zayn’s never felt a wet Omega before. (Of course, he hasn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling one _now.)_ So he didn’t know how slick he should expect Harry to be. 

Harry is very, _very_ slick, easily as slick as any girl Zayn’s ever fingered.

But as soon as Zayn’s finger has sunk in past the second knuckle, Harry’s squeezing around him, muscles holding him tight. 

Zayn’s cock presses against the inside of his own jeans and he wants, badly, to reach down and touch it. He doesn’t. Instead, he places his mouth against Harry’s ear and whispers, “Another finger?” 

Harry nods, head hitting the wall, his hair falling forward into his face again. Zayn wishes he could see his eyes and the twist of his lips, but he knows it’s better this way. Less intimate. Less dangerous. 

Zayn adds another finger beside the first. He thinks this is going well. He’s doesn’t feel so in danger of losing control. His body has somehow become accustomed to the low level desperation that Harry’s scent had triggered in him. He’s totally in tune with Harry’s body, registering each twitch of muscle and each uneven breath. He can almost imagine what Harry’s feeling, what he needs Zayn to do next. 

So, even as Harry speaks the words, Zayn’s hand is already moving. 

“Touch me,” Harry pants. “I want to come.” 

“Sure you do, babe,” Zayn replies. The endearment slides past his lips as easily as anything. It’s not the first time he’s called Harry a pet name. Affection sometimes pours out from him toward Harry when he least expects it. He’s always chalked it up to Harry’s power as an Omega. The other boys do it sometimes, too, especially Louis. 

He’d never considered that his own gender, that being an Alpha, might have something to do with it, as well. It’s clear to him now, that it does. That something hot and tender inside him is responding Harry in a way that is not wholly new. 

Harry’s cock is large, larger than Zayn’s. It’s something he’s always been a little jealous of, to be honest. As an Omega, Harry doesn’t need a huge cock. He’s built to be a taker, not a giver. And while Zayn’s very average size has kept anyone from suspecting he might be packing a knot, he’d sort of wished for at least that one advantage of being an Alpha. 

Zayn keeps his fingers mostly still inside Harry and focuses on pulling him off. 

Into his ear, he murmurs, “You feel so good, babe. Tight and hard and ready. Bet you’d do so good with a knot in you. And I would knot you. I’d tie us together, me inside you. You’d be so still underneath me, letting me fill you up.” 

Harry’s hips cant weakly, thrusting back a bit onto Zayn’s fingers. 

“You think that’s romantic don’t you?” Zayn asks, finding himself a little amused at Harry’s eagerness. 

“Zayn, I want you to. I want you to knot me,” he says. His voice his broken and his cock has tightened in Zayn’s fist. He’s close to his orgasm and Zayn knows that renders his words all but meaningless. Still, that doesn’t stop Zayn’s cock from twitching. 

He clenches his fingers and Harry groans, spilling over them. “Zayn, _yes._ Knew I needed you. I knew it.” 

God, he’s even a cocky little shit with ass dripping and Zayn’s fingers stuck up it, even sweaty and plastered to the dirty wall of petrol station in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

That’s when Zayn decides the things they say about Omegas being helpless to their heats must not be true. Harry’s as smooth and in control of the situation, of _Zayn,_ as ever. 

He twists and Zayn’s fingers slip out of him. 

“I’m not fucking you,” Zayn clarifies. In case he has an _ideas_ about Zayn following through on his dirty talk. 

Harry’s facing him now, back against the wall again, sated smile on his lips. “I don’t want you to,” he says. “Not here, not now.” 

Zayn sets his jaw. “Not ever.” 

Despite his words, Harry’s hands are fiddling with the front of Zayn’s jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging. And then Zayn’s free, his cock bobbing between them. 

Harry leans in to kiss Zayn’s neck. 

He still smells _so_ good. 

Lips brushing Zayn’s jaw, he says, “I want you to come all over me. I want to be covered in your scent. If I can’t have your knot, let me have your scent.” 

Zayn’s breath stutters, eyes flitting down to cover Harry’s chest. He can picture it: the butterfly on Harry’s stomach with white drop of Zayn’s come running down it. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.” 

He can’t see the harm in it, not now he’s already had his fingers inside Harry. And he will drive better, safer, he reasons, if he comes now. 

Harry flattens himself against the blue tiles and closes his eyes. “Do it,” he murmurs. And then, biting his lip and opening one eye, he adds, “Please.” 

The plea catches in his throat so it’s several syllables instead of one. 

Zayn’s hand, damp and cool, covered in Harry’s come, reaches down to pull at himself. He wants this. He wants Harry to walk out of this place, smelling like he’s been claimed for this heat, like he has an Alpha and a knot, someone to take care of him. 

Zayn can do that, he realizes, his motion speeding up. Zayn can take care of him. 

“Come on,” Harry murmurs. “ _Come on_.” 

“I’m coming, babe,” Zayn replies, and he does, aiming as best he can for Harry’s chest. The first spurt reaches his belly and the second goes higher, painting the dip between his breast bones. The rest bubbles out over Zayn’s fingers mingling with Harry’s own, now mostly dried. 

Harry looks down at himself. He’s panting. They’re both panting. 

Zayn’s hand snakes out to rub the wet of it into Harry’ skin. Harry’s head falls back against the wall and he moans. 

“You’re gonna, like, get me worked up. Again. Too quickly,” Harry grates out. 

His dick twitches, already half hard and Zayn pulls his hand away as though he’s been burned. Harry catches his wrist and lifting the hand to his mouth. He sucks in one of Zayn’s fingers, eyes shutting. He hums around it and, this time, it’s Zayn’s dick that twitches. 

“Harry,” he says. 

“You didn’t ravish me,” Harry says, releasing him. 

Zayn shakes his head and begins to button and himself back up with unsteady fingers. “Yet,” he says and means it. Yes, his control has held. Yes, he’s become accustomed to the throb of desire. But he still doesn’t trust himself. Not around Harry, not right now. 

“You won’t. Not unless I ask you to,” Harry asserts. “It’s lies, the things they say about Alphas. I’ve always thought so.” 

Zayn squats to grab Harry’s jeans off the floor. He hands them to Harry and then reaches back for Harry's shirt. When he stands, he pulls the fabric over Harry’s head himself. Harry lets him, shrugging into it before stepping into his jeans. 

“You’re playing with fire,” he tells Harry. “That’s not a theory that’s safe to test yourself.” 

He has a thought and freezes. 

“You do this with lots of Alphas? Seduce them when you’re in heat, test their control?” 

Harry fucking laughs and even as irritated as he is that the papers might actually be right about all the shit they write about Harry’s sexual indiscretion, the sound tickles down Zayn’s spine pleasantly. 

“You know I don’t,” Harry says, as though Zayn spends every day and night with him, as though Zayn’s been with him for all his previous heats. 

He hasn’t. “I don’t _know_ that.” 

Harry moves to the sink to wash his hands. Zayn thinks about stopping him. He likes the idea of Harry climbing back into the car completely covered in come and slick. 

 _Fuck_ , Zayn has no plans to wash his own hands.

Harry watches Zayn in the mirror. The blue tiles are bad for both their complexions. It’s not a thing Zayn would have thought about before The X Factor, and, it’s a crazy thing to think, now in the middle of all this. But Zayn wishes the tiles were another color, cream or green, maybe.  

“Do I smell like I’ve been claimed by another Alpha before?” Harry asks, turning off the water and wiping his wet hands on his jeans. 

Zayn thinks about it. He’s never spent any time around any other Omegas before, so he can’t be certain. But Harry has always smelled the same. Like Harry. And only Harry. 

“Will you smell like me now?” 

Harry shrugs. “Depends.” 

“On what?” 

Harry pushes past him to open the door. Zayn follows him out. “On what?” he asks again. He tries not to make eye contact with the man at the counter. 

A bell on the door to the shop rings as they walk out. 

“I don’t really know,” Harry says as he waits for Zayn to unlock the car. “I just know sometimes Omegas smelled claimed after heat sex and sometimes they don’t.” 

Zayn frowns. It can’t be as simple as that. Someone must’ve studied this. People have to be curious. He sighs and climbs into the car. 

Harry buckles his seat belt and Zayn taps his fingers against the wheel and sniffs. Harry smells different, not much, but enough to be noticeable. Zayn can't tell if it's because of the come drying on his stomach or because of something else, something deeper. 

Doesn't really matter; it's a good different, an even more tempting different.

And, as he pulls back onto the highway, Zayn's hand reaches over to rest on the top of Harry's thigh. 

~

**Author's Note:**

> don't expect a thrilling conclusion. i like this world and i love zarry, but i hate finishing things. forever a million apologies. [tumblr post](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com/post/135711817990/dont-ask-me-that-by-juliusschmidt-for).


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